Twisted
by bacatlover
Summary: Both are on a mission to destroy the other, but when a little bit of lust gets in the way, how will either accomplish such a task? DeiSaku
1. Part I

"Deidara-sama, Deidara-sama," the scantily clad women clinging to either of his arms cooed, lips skimming his shoulders and neck, eager for his attention.

Really, he still couldn't figure out how he'd been the one given this mission to kill an exotic dancer. What the hell Pein had against the woman he couldn't fathom. But Deidara certainly wasn't going to refuse one of Pein's commands. He just wondered why he'd been the one chosen. Why not Hidan? The man loved anything sinful and he'd probably enjoy this shit more than he was. The girls hanging on him only served to annoy him with their whispered promises of a good time and far too suggestive touches. Of course he couldn't just shove them off and toss a clay bird or two their way; it would most certainly blow his 'cover.' But still… the urge was there.

Maybe Akatsuki's leader had some vendetta against one of the hookers? Maybe they'd declared some man better in bed than Pein? Deidara smirked at the thought; it was utterly out of character for the stern leader. Perhaps they'd insulted Konan? Though the woman could definitely handle herself he could see Pein refusing to let her really get her hands dirty. He only did that when it was necessary, like the time they'd found the Frog Sannin in Rain. But either way, Deidara hated the way he was being ordered about without so much as a goddamned explanation.

This would make the third night in a row he'd been waiting for the pink-haired dancer to show up. It was infuriating; not only did he have to wait to kill the woman, but he also had to be quiet about it. No explosions, no fun, no art. It made him all the more ready to kill her and be done with it.

Deciding to give up for the night, since it was past closing time, though closing time merely meant the time when they stopped allowing customers to enter the 'club,' Deidara pushed himself up, hands working at peeling the girls from his body. Once free from their death-like grip he made for the exit. Rounding a corner rather quickly, as he was more than ready to go back to his hotel room and pass out, Deidara missed the person heading from the very direction he was going and faltered a bit when the girl, gaze downwards, smacked into his chest.

His eyes widened as he took in her appearance. She wore a rather exotic outfit, much like the style of foreign countries. Both the top, which barely covered her chest and wrapped around her neck and the middle of her back to tie, and the bottom, which basically consisted of a very _very _short skirt with a transparent and gauzy extension that hung to the floor, were made from a deep crimson fabric. It was made to catch the eye that much was certain what with the long shimmering silver tassels that draped over the short skirt, the belt of shiny metal discs that wrapped around her flat belly.

When she stepped back and out of his grasp the bangles around her wrists and ankles tinkled. He noted that she must have been very light on her feet. The other women he'd seen with numerous pieces of jewelry around the place had damn near been deafening as they moved. And they were supposed to be graceful dancers? No way. This woman before him was absolute elegance, from the fluid solidity her posture exuded to the curve of her slightly muscled arms, adorned with a single band of midnight black secured tightly around each bicep, to her hair, long and flowing down to graze the swell of her bottom.

Hair that was a startling shade of pink. _This_ was his target?

_Shit, _Deidara thought to himself, _she must have really pissed Leader off if he's sending me to kill someone like her._

Although, once the blond S-ranked nin caught a glimpse of her eyes he thought, perhaps, that he could understand why Pein had sent him. Though brilliantly emerald, they shone, not with desire or interest, but rather unadulterated hatred.

Which he found oddly annoying. Why should he care how a mere lowly exotic dancer looked at him? He was a top ranked criminal, responsible for the capture and extraction of the one-tailed bijuu; he'd killed hundreds of people. She'd possibly slept with hundreds of people but she certainly didn't have it in her, graceful or not, to kill someone, let alone shinobi.

And now he had to figure out a way to get her alone. How the hell was he supposed to do that while she stood there glaring daggers at him in a way that almost seemed familiar, with a threatening aura he could swear he'd been exposed to before. He couldn't know this woman, right? Where could he possibly have encountered an exotic dancer before? He wasn't like Hidan, Kisame, or even Pein and Konan; he didn't enjoy coming to places like these and fucking around. He still found it difficult to believe that the stoic leader and the "look at me wrong and I'll kill you" Konan liked such places. Well, Deidara had actually discovered the truth behind that not too long ago from, as much as he hated it, Sasori.

Although Sasori hadn't exactly been the same since his return to Akatsuki and from death, Deidara still saw him as his fellow artist, though not of the same style, and thus a trusted companion. So, when the puppet master informed the blonde that Pein only went to such indulgent places at Konan's request he had no choice but to believe him. It wasn't that surprising. Behind that entirely too cool exterior there was always a fire, _art_, ready to burst forth.

Turning his focus back on the fair skinned 'enchantress' before him, Deidara went to encircle her thin jewel-clad wrist in his grasp and insist they go somewhere for a private dance so he could finish his job and be done with it for good. To his surprise she easily and smoothly twirled away, eyes enhanced by soft shimmering powder still glowering at him.

_Bitch,_ he cursed to himself.

"Look, babe," he said, forcing the endearment from his mouth with sheer willpower, "I'll pay you well for a good time, yeah." And then he smiled, definitely not in an attempt to charm her but more due to that fact that she wouldn't get paid at all in the end.

"I've got a better idea," the woman spoke, voice low and husky as she finally stepped closer. "I'll come to you when I deign it and for the time being you'll fuck off." Her eyes danced with that same hate but he swore he saw a bit of amusement there as well as he felt the tick in his jaw start.

"Why you-" he started only to be met with rushing air as she swirled off, hands above her head and hips swaying in rhythm to the heady music pounding throughout the open chain of rooms, all draped in fabrics and dim colored lights with velvet couches and settees.

As his jaw twitched in irritation he seriously contemplated forcefully dragging her off and killing her, but his head was already hurting from the loud thrum of voices and music and kami knew what other noises drifting through the heavy damp air; all the women's foreign perfumes that he knew they must have bathed in to have such ungodly scents, were getting to him as well. He'd had enough for tonight. At least, now, after three nights, he knew she was actually still there. Maybe she'd been sick and unable to perform until now? Deidara found himself mentally smacking his forehead. What did he care if she'd been sick? It was definitely time to call it a night.

* * *

_Shit, shit, shit,_ Sakura cursed at herself, curling her bare toes into one of the many thick shaggy rugs back in the girls' costume room. How had she let her opportunity slip like that? She was a fucking kunoichi for fuck's sakes. Her job was to put on a mask and keep that mask for the entirety of the mission. Not let her contempt for someone destroy the very façade she'd been working on for the past two weeks dissolve in two minutes. But it just _had _to be him, didn't it? That bastard that had captured Gaara all those years ago and thus caused Chiyo's death, had injured her friends, and whose partner had damn near killed her.

Even though it had been, what, over eight years since that horrendous display of his, she had still felt the desire to pummel him thrumming in her veins when she first laid eyes on him. Luckily he hadn't noticed her for who she was. Years of war and fighting could drastically change a person. And she supposed it was easier to notice him as he still wore his Akatsuki cloak even though the group of missing nin weren't nearly as fearsome as they once had been. Not since Madara had lost his mind after being betrayed by Sasuke and thus dually attacked by Naruto and the youngest Uchiha. It had been hell for Konoha. Madara had sought the aid of the bijuu and had tried to release half of them on the village before trying to entrap the remainders in his own body. It had been his only hope to defeat Naruto who still held the Kyuubi within. But, as Sakura and those closest to the scene had discovered, there was enough strain on a person's body just holding one bijuu. And Madara had tried to take in four at once. He'd literally been ripped to pieces and he'd had no more bodies to transfer to, nothing to keep his far too old soul alive with.

Four years had gone into tracking Sasuke, keeping Naruto safe from Akatsuki, and then an all out battle between Akatsuki and Konoha. It had completely warped the person Sakura once was. Watching those she cared about die because she simply didn't have enough chakra to heal every single one. The kunoichi even had been ordered to select those that were savable and to simply induce a sleep like state in those that weren't. Her heart had shattered as she'd chakra-scanned Ino's body and her injuries to discover it was already too late. She'd lost too much blood and Sakura's team of medics didn't have the resources for blood transfusions. Tears had coursed over her cheeks as she'd jabbed a needle into her own arm, dragging all the blood she could from her vein before one of the younger medics had run over and forced her hand, forced her to let go and then supported her as she'd wobbled on her knees.

"Give it to her, please!" Sakura had cried, hands clasping one of her friend's, "Please!"

"Sakura-san," the girl had said, eyes clouding and mouth down turned, "I'm sorry. She's already gone. I'm so sorry."

"Sakura!" another medic called, "we need you over here! We need to know if…"

Shaking her head, the coral-haired, now woman, found herself staring into her own reflection. When had she started crying? It didn't matter. She was different now. She didn't cry so easily anymore, and the pain that accompanied tears was never there anymore. Quickly she wiped at her smeared makeup, straightened her hair, and ducked back out into the far too sickly atmosphere.

When she looked at the 'beautiful' women in the place all she saw were overly painted, overly drugged trash. They had chosen this profession, it wasn't something they'd been forced into by some chance, she knew as much since they all loved to chat with each other after the men had gone for the night, though it was usually morning by that time. They'd sit at the bar, boozing it up, smoking themselves sick; it disgusted her. Honestly, what did these men see? The dancers could hardly be called such; they just tottered about, breasts hanging openly from their tops, panties riding in between their cheeks and crotches. They had yellowed teeth from their bad habits and poor hygiene, and without their gaudy makeup their skin was a sickly yellow from a life without enough sunlight and too many drugs.

Sakura wanted to escape the cesspool as soon as possible. But that meant she'd have to wait for _that_ person to return. The one that was oddly attractive with his piercings and spiky hair and the death ray on his arm every time she'd seen him there. That kunoichi wasn't one to trifle with, Sakura could tell with one glance. But every damned time she was there; it made it impossible to get the Akatsuki leader alone, impossible to kill him.

It made it all the worse to know that, had she been alive, Ino would be the one on this mission. Ino had been the entrancing one, the beautiful one that could get any man to follow her wishes. That man would have taken one look at her and left his arm candy to be eaten by someone else if he'd seen Ino. But no, she was dead because of that very man's actions. If that bastard hadn't of created Akatsuki, hadn't gathered the bijuu for Madara…

"Oi," one of the older women called, "new girl, get your ass to work unless you want me to report you to the boss." Sakura glared at the 'dancer' slumped over a greasy man's lap before turning so sharply on her heel that her hair flared wildly behind her, catching the attention of many still-sober customers. Hearing a few whistles in response, Sakura could only berate herself before getting the customary chant.

"Dance!"

"Yeah, baby! Dance for us!"

Sakura groaned inwardly before turning burning eyes on them.

_I hate my life,_ she mumbled before moving to the music.

* * *

Deidara was finding it far too difficult to discover sleep that night. Instead he found himself tossing about in discomfort and intense agitation. She was striking, he could admit; not just everyone had pink hair like that. Nor were they paired with fiery green eyes and a body and reflexes that should only belong to a kunoichi, not some dancer in one of Rain's sleazy clubs. His mind's reiteration of the subject was making him want to blow something up. Namely the girl, but the whole joint would suffice as well. Too damned bad Konan seemed to love the place and what Konan loved, well, you just didn't fucking touch.

After a few more minutes of fighting his sheets and annoyed sighing, he flung the covers back and hopped out of bed, dragging his clay pouches from their spot on the night table and clipping them in place.

The training grounds were under the main building, and, while they weren't as satisfying as real art, real explosions of wood and earth and flesh, the dummy human-shaped sandbags would at least allow him to relieve some of his pent up energy.

Deidara didn't particularly care if the noise was going to wake anyone. Hidan would probably come down and threaten to take his head off, but if the blond nin had learned anything from the Konoha shinobi was that the soulless freak could be blown to pieces. Even if the bastard didn't die it'd shut him up until anyone found it necessary to sew him back together.

If Sasori even woke up at all Deidara would be amazed. It seemed like his former partner heard only what he wanted, which would hardly include his explosive art, much to Deidara's annoyance. Sometimes he really had to wonder how Sasori had managed to survive all those years ago despite that Konoha girl's fists, or so he'd heard later, tearing his puppets to pieces and that old woman piercing his one human part. Maybe being the snake-sannin's partner had taught him one too many things.

As for the rest of Akatsuki's members, well, there was only Kisame, who could sleep through anything, and Pein and Konan who tended to ignore him most of the time anymore unless they really needed something. He wouldn't doubt if Pein was still trying to come up with some scheme to strengthen the group again and effectively cease war through sheer terror.

_This is Akatsuki now, _Deidara told himself, _how pathetic. _The only man Deidara had really sought to prove his worth to had died. They now, of course, knew he'd been having conflicts with Madara which had been the direct cause of his death. He'd overexerted his body by relentlessly using the Mangekyou. Not that Deidara cared, he was just pissed that he'd never been able to show the pompous jerk his true talent as a shinobi.

Then of course, _he_, was dead now. That sinister counterpart that had been lurking behind a blathering mask of idiocy had sought his own demise in the end. Deidara had repeatedly told himself it's what the man deserved for trying to use shit that wasn't his. The bijuu were not his pets that he could do with as he pleased. He, however, knew better; he stuck to improving his own exploding techniques to trying to leech off someone else's skill.

And then there was Deidara. He was one of the few left in Akatsuki that didn't really want to be there at all. Something he'd had in common with the Uchiha unfortunately. He didn't quite have the nerve, or the stupidity, to defy Pein just yet. But, that meant he had to put up with menial missions like this one. Of course, who was he to complain? He was lucky to even be alive. During that last moment of his life, when his body was already solidifying with his most precious clay… how could he have had such a thought? How could he have wanted to live more than to create his masterpiece? It was too late now though, he'd had the thought and in doing so his art had faltered. Sure it had created an explosion beyond imaging still, but it hadn't been near as devastating as it could have been had the center of that raging fire blown as well. But instead, with that last fucking worthless thought, his chakra-enhanced clay had encased his body, wrapped him in some protective shell and protected him from his own blast.

He'd been so mortified at his failure that he'd run off to some remote village in Lightning Country and posed as a traveler foregoing his Akatsuki cloak. That was until Pein had come searching for him. Deidara could have really blown himself up that time. He'd forgotten he was even wearing the Akatsuki ring and Pein had tracked him down like a lost little puppy only causing him further humiliation. Pein had outright asked if Deidara meant to defy him. And that was how he'd ended up back in Rain and doing Pein's dirty work.

He rounded the last curve in the spiral staircase down into the basements, before stalking down the hall and swinging open the heavy metal door to the training room.

He loved this kind of training. Loved envisioning certain faces on the sandbags, venting his frustrations on those people in his mind's eye. Itachi had always been one of those faces. Hidan, Sasori, and Madara had all been his makeshift targets as well. With as agitated as he was he used all four of their faces to entice him. Not too mention that dancer's face. Though what the hell kept him from sending any clay birds or spiders or kunai at that image Deidara couldn't fathom. And it pissed him off.

* * *

Sakura slumped tiredly against the thin plastered wall of her own room. That had been the most pleasant surprise she'd received when she'd gotten the job. Her own quarters. Of course, she was certain the only reason for the arrangement was to keep her happy. She was the youngest of all the dancers and practically the only one that danced without turning it into a striptease. As if she'd ever do something so vile. She wouldn't show any of the scum here in Rain her body; the boys back home had been a different story though.

After Ino had died, after half her village had been ravished by the freed bijuu, after Naruto, much like his father, had given his life to seal them all away, she'd refused to see anyone. She would visit the spot where Naruto had, by some instinct, sealed the bijuu into the earth rather than a living person; that place had become her haven. It was a place that thrummed with energy, that was constantly in bloom and healthy. And it was because of her Naruto.

Yes, her Naruto. He'd been there for so long and she'd only actually realized just how he was offering himself up to her when it was too late. No, not too late, she'd had two weeks of happiness with him; two weeks where she was able to forget the hurt their friend had caused them; they'd escaped into each other to rid themselves of that pain. It had been enough, it would always be enough. Until he was gone, then it could never be enough, not when she couldn't wake up to his smiling face or his tousled hair or his loving caresses he often hadn't realized he was even doing.

No, no man after Naruto would touch her in that same way by any means she thought as she slammed her armoire open. She hated every single piece she'd brought with her. Hated them for the mere fact that they had now been sullied by those grasping hands in the club, hated them for what they represented – her imprisonment. At least, that was how she felt. This place was a prison, and each and every night was just another bout of torture and her keeper was the Akatsuki Leader. Once she, the prisoner, got the chance to stab a knife into his back, she'd be free. And she knew, when the time came, she wouldn't have a problem sticking the kunai anywhere, be it his chest, his back, his throat… she'd kill him and run back to Konoha as fast as she could. Not out of fear, but disgust. Everything about this "village" was revolting. And, while, she hated to admit it, even the things that were physically nice in appearance weren't actually attractive.

But god's was she stupid! She'd had one of the Akatsuki, the very one that had all those years ago captured Gaara and even had the audacity to sit atop his dead body, right in front of her and all she'd been able to do was keep her anger partially in check. As soon as she'd seen his face, a face that hadn't changed in the slightest except to maybe lose a little bit of its boyish shape, she'd felt her inner self coiling, preparing to strike and she'd had to tamper it down, had to bite her tongue until it bled and throbbed in pain.

He may have looked charming, if not a bit stoic, but she knew what lay beneath that pretty exterior. The killer, the man who'd done some horrible deed to get himself banished from his village and then even went and joined the twisted Akatsuki of his own accord. Oddly enough, what she most wanted to do to that man was not kill him. Rather, she wanted to cut his hair, dye it, burn it, whatever she could do to remove if from her sight. It endeared her to him in ways it shouldn't have. That man was nothing like Naruto, nothing like Ino. He wasn't dead; he wasn't cold and lifeless in the ground, but rather still painfully alive. And Sakura hated him for it. Hated him for the emotions that flickered through his eyes when she'd shown her disgust for him, emotions that would never show themselves upon her friends' faces again; hated him for the way he could still move fluidly from years of rigorous training, while her loved ones lay in wooden boxes in the earth; hated him for the way he could still smile if he chose to, the way Naruto could not, the way Ino never would again.

Sakura slipped her own adornments off, her belt, her jewelry that tapped as she removed it, her skirt that clung almost painfully to her skin and the curves of her thighs, her top that concealed far too little for her tastes. Placing them in the cupboard with the rest of her outfits she moved towards the shower.

It was a modern styled room; the only thing that separated bed from bath was the flooring. It was carpeted, some thick blue plush, in the bedroom area, while the bathroom was tiled with some look-a-like marble. The place was pleasant enough, it was her only respite in this place, the only place she could let her mask fall.

Turning on the water, she stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink; took in the too heavy eyeliner that, while making her look exotic, also made her feel out of place. This wasn't her. What would Naruto say if he could see her now? Could see what she'd become. It was for the sake of a mission, sure, but, behind the makeup even, she'd changed. She was so tired, so broken by all the years, all the deaths. Even after Madara had died, the war between Konoha and Akatsuki had dragged on. Mainly because the Hokage's of the main hidden villages knew that the group still had the potential to be a threat. Which was part of the reason she was here now. For whom better to secretly murder the head of Akatsuki, a man, than a woman, a medic woman who could cause malfunctions of the body with one chakra-laced touch? Where regular offensive attacks had failed, hers was supposed to succeed.

Yet she couldn't find an opening, a mere two seconds to get the fiery-haired man in her grasp. And, while the blonde was no substitution, she thought that maybe, if she would not be given the chance by the leader that she could at least take one of their lives, could at least weaken their numbers. She would poison that man, she'd take his life, his love, whatever that may be, from him. His life was hers and hers alone.

* * *

Once again Deidara found himself sliding through the entrance to the dance club, head immediately swimming with the music and lights and overpowering smell of smoke. It wasn't his kind of smoke. Wasn't the powerful earthy smell of his exploding clay, and therefore it wasn't any good.

Tonight was the night, he was sure of it. He'd be able to kill her and finally end this charade; he'd be able to enjoy his own peaceful nights again and Pein and Konan could go back to their games in this hellhole. He was almost anxious to be done with it. His fingers flexed in their eagerness to snatch a kunai in hand and…

"Long time no see," a voice purred in his ear, one hand sliding over his shoulder. It felt different than all the women from the nights before and while he found himself not quite repelled by the touch he turned with the intent to fend off yet another hungry harlot. The corner of Deidara's mouth twitch, cocky half-smirk making its way in place on his face.

"Oh? And here I thought you didn't like me, yeah" he challenged.

"Ah, ah, ah," she said, finger wagging in front of his face and glossy lips pouting, "don't be putting words in my mouth." She was good, he had to admit, but even the best of actresses, the most money-hungry couldn't hide that spark of distaste in their eye; she was no exception. Now, if he could just figure out why he almost liked that emotion in her eyes. The night before he'd hated it, now he liked and disliked it. It was like a dare, telling him to touch her if he had the courage, if he wasn't afraid of the bite that came with those actions. Too bad he had no intention of acting on that dare.

"Shall I put something else there then?" The words were out of his mouth before he could dig teeth into the palms of his hands. The woman glowered at him, hands no longer touching him but instead on her hips.

Tonight she wore a blue outfit much like the night before. Although the straps were different, merely normal and resting on her shoulders snuggly, the amount of flesh the top covered was about the same. He could have almost called it cute what with the swirling pattern covering one breast and the short silver tassels over the other. She went without bangles as well, instead donning a thin silver choker and fabric arm bands that wrapped first around the majority of her bicep then narrowed to a slight strip to connect to another band around her wrist. The entire ensemble was topped off by a chain of silver and a single bright blue jewel that dripped over her side-swept bangs to rest in the middle of her forehead.

But none of that really affected Deidara; he was used to attractive women hanging around him, which didn't include any of the women in this place other than perhaps the one standing before him. No, what floored Deidara was the daring amount of flesh she was showing on her lower half. Instead of the tiny skirt from the night before there was a long heavy flowing bolt of deep blue velvet that hung from a precariously low position on her hips. It covered her center front and back but on either of her nicely curved hips was warm flesh and few and far between slivers of criss-crossed fabric.

He could see her flawless flesh from the gorgeous curve of her hip to below the even more delicious curve of her rear. His only complaint was the ever present skirt of gauze draping to the floor though he supposed it did lend a sort of airiness to her movements, not that she needed the help.

And just what the hell was he doing? Deidara snapped his mouth shut in the instant he realized he'd been staring so unabashedly at the pink-haired dancer. Just when had she penetrated his guard? It had been the hips, he decided somewhat angrily.

"I don't provide that service unlike most of the other girls here," she retorted, brow quirked caustically.

"Then," Deidara started, "what services _do_ you provide."

_Well shit,_ Sakura groaned inwardly, flustered for not the first time tonight, what should she say to that? She needed to get him alone, that much was for sure.

"How about a private dance," he suggested for her, much to her relief. Although that relief was short-lived when she realized she was actually going to have to dance for him and him alone.

_Its all part of the job,_ she told herself that ever present mantra.

She couldn't help when her body stiffened at his touch, one of his palms sliding over her hip, a hip she would much rather have covered in fabric so as to avoid direct contact with this monster. When teeth grazed over her skin she violently turned around, cheeks flushing in anger, in embarrassment, in confusion, and muttered for him to follow before heading into the curtained off areas meant for more private showings.

She'd never even been in these makeshift rooms since first investigating the place. Sakura was a kunoichi and she would be certain of her surroundings even for as degrading of a mission as this.

Sakura was trying her damnedest to sway her hips in a provocative manner, tried tilting her head to reveal the bend of her neck to the man walking behind her. But she still felt like she was failing miserably at being alluring. He was scum to her, but to most women he was probably mysterious and fierce and… and... And what the hell was she thinking? What did it matter what other women thought of him! He was her target and that was it! That was the absolute and only reason she had to appeal to him.

The blonde Akatsuki took a seat rather nonchalantly, looking for all the world like he did this every day. Well, she supposed he did. She lowered her gaze purposefully as he stretched out, legs sprawling before him, robe pulling partly open from his posture.

"Well, Pinky-"

"Don't call me that," she growled, eyes off the floor.

"Then don't look away from me. Is the floor more exciting than me, yeah?" He laughed lightly. Laughed a laugh that was far too likeable in Sakura's opinion. And where did he get off making a comment like that? Was _he_ the one practically naked and about ready to dance for her? No, of course he wasn't, so he had no room to talk.

If looks could kill, well, Deidara thought he could have died right then and there. And not just in one way. The idea was ironic to him to be certain. She was the one that was going to die tonight, not him. Of course, in their current positions that wouldn't be very easy. He needed to win her over, draw her closer, because where she stood a good two feet from him he couldn't do much without startling her and most likely drawing unwanted attention. So, he did his best to be charming and warm and everything he usually wasn't when he was around the other Akatsuki members. It came more naturally than he would have thought.

He merely motioned for her to come closer and smiled, head tilted sideways slightly.

It was now or never, she supposed. He was beckoning her to him and the best way to finish him off would be a sneak attack. She had to remember that despite this man's obvious affinity for indulging in less than savory activities he was still able to capture Gaara single-handedly. He was still her enemy, and one to be feared at that.

As she moved closer his hand reached out to slide through the flowing material of her skirts and over her thigh. She nearly grimaced. That hand did not have to feel so nice, be so gentle. A monster like him shouldn't be able to touch so softly.

Deidara, after feeling how smooth and taut her skin was, could have almost admitted that Sasori's view of art might have had some relevance then. This girl was art, he could feel it in the toned muscles under his hand, could see it in the way her eyes smoldered and glared at him while he touched her. She could stay like this forever and she would be art; she needed no bang, no sudden explosion to make something beautiful.

Though he wondered if she would look even better as he snuffed the life from her, her face twisted in agony as he killed her. What if he fucked her? And what exactly was he thinking? He couldn't fuck her… well, he could, definitely could, but why would he want to? Just because she was the first thing in this place to actually look good didn't mean he had to break down and screw her. Still, it had been some time since he'd taken a woman, probably too long. And she was looking better every second. Maybe it was the rage in her eyes as his hand now rubbed over her flesh under too concealing cloth. Hell, maybe it was the pink hair. Something about those tousled locks still sent shrill bell chimes through his head. But bells meant nothing to him when his body was thrumming with excitement, with energy, and something entirely raw and impure.

Unfortunately, he could see the contempt still hovering on her face. He was all for forcing her, but there was just something about having a willing woman that made things much more enjoyable. Deidara thought, that, perhaps, it would be a fun little side-game, a little "distraction" from "work" so to say.

"Alright now," Sakura blurted out, wary of his hands still lingering on her skin and even more wary of the heat it unwillingly sparked in her body, "if you want my services, you're gonna follow my rules. And rule number one is hands off."

"That doesn't seem like a good deal at all," Deidara commented, suppressing a laugh. Suddenly, he thought he might have understood this girl. She was shy, probably not a virgin, but sexually inexperienced, though that was an odd factor considering where she worked. Maybe she was the owner's daughter or something? He wasn't sure, but somehow, she got special privileges in comparison to the other hookers in the place.

"Rule number two," he heard her blather out, hands now joining in the crescendo of her voice, "is-"

"I've never been big on rules," Deidara said smoothly, tongue sliding over his bottom lip from more than one mouth. He watched as her eyes widened and in reflexes belonging to a shinobi grasp his wrist.

"I said rule number one was no touching," she purred, trying to reign in her fake sweetness once again.

In return Deidara growled, "And I told you, I don't _do_ rules, yeah. But I'll make an exception and do you."

"Ugh," Sakura let the utterance slip past her lips but immediately regretted it.

_Oh yeah, way to go, Sakura, way to make the guy do whatever you want. You could just kill him now. Slink into his lap like a cat in heat like those other whores and just touch his neck, send that little jolt of chakra to his brain and fry it; make him a dumb shit then take your time and stop his heart. All it will take is ten seconds._

"Say," Deidara started, hand drawing back and pulling her with it, "what did you do to my friend anyways. I would think he'd like playing with a little fiery girl like you."

"I don't know who you're talking about," she lied, the tops of her knees now touching the chair in between his legs.

"Tall, orangey hair, lots of piercings, probably had a hot number with blue hair on his arm."

"Nope, didn't see him."

"Well, that's funny, because he sure as hell noticed you, yeah."

"What? Why would you say that? What did he say?" Sakura said, the urgency in her voice throwing Deidara off a bit. Why was she so concerned if she hadn't noticed Pein? Better yet, if she wasn't lying, why did Pein want her dead so badly?

"Why are you worried?" Deidara questioned slyly, intent on catching the girl in her own fib.

"Well, you see," Sakura fumbled her words purposely, head lowered, lips pouted and looking at the missing nin through her lashes, "-I-its just, you see, I-I've heard about you guys with the cloaks, the Akatsuki… it can't be a good thing to be have one of them mad at me as you seem to think your friend is."

Deidara scoffed, hands squeezing her hips a little bit tighter unconsciously, "He's not really my friend, yeah."

"Sure," Sakura replied, voice failing to conceal her obvious disbelief. He gave her a particularly icy glare before his eyes were drawn to the fair amount of cleavage she was only enhancing with her arms now crossed over her torso.

"Whether you believe me or not, he isn't my friend. You have a boss? It's more like that kind of relationship, yeah." Deidara was rather surprised he was speaking so freely with this woman in front of him with a single pale-pink eyebrow quirked in an unbelievably cute way; a cute way he never would have thought cute were it on another woman.

"Of course I have a boss," Sakura scoffed, rolling her eyes, "and I bet she's a hell of a lot better than your supposed boss."

"She, yeah?" Deidara asked, his surprise evident. "I didn't picture that a place like this would be run by a woman, yeah." A smile, which Deidara knew was false, made its way to her lips but not her eyes, as she laughed lightly.

How the hell had she let something like that slip? She knew as well as the Akatsuki before her that this club was run and owned by a man. Of course she'd only been thinking of Tsunade who was more of a mother than a boss but still-

"Why don't we cut the chit-chat, yeah?" The blonde said, hands finally gripping her thighs and pulling her completely onto his lap. Her grace managed to once again amaze him as he'd tugged on her rather awkwardly in an attempt to counter that very aspect of her. Yet she landed rather neatly and softly on him, knees on either side of his thighs and hands braced on his chest and pushing her as far from him as possible, he noticed despondently.

"Damnit, woman," he growled, hands on her bare, narrow waist, fingers curling into her flesh, "loosen up, yeah; I'm not gonna hurt you-" He forced the last words out, wondering why he'd bothered when he most definitely was going to do just that. This woman had him spouting nonsense the entire night though. Maybe he really did need to get laid because these kinds of wants just weren't helping him do his job. Of course, his mission wasn't usually to kill a sexy dancer with all too alluring movements. Movements he couldn't even see right now as she sat stalk-still in his lap, the tendons in her neck visible as she tried to gain more distance.

"What's your name?" He mumbled, leaning forward, right hand trailing up her side, lips on the palm parting, and tongue darting out to touch her naked skin. He felt more than saw her shiver, or shudder, he couldn't be sure.

This couldn't be happening, well, it could, in fact she'd expected it. To be seduced by Pein, the leader of Akatsuki, if not another member had been in the plans, had been the means to an end result, to completing her mission. But she never expected it to actually feel good. Hands so tainted shouldn't have been capable of giving any pleasure, yet as she felt that appendage she knew was there, but hadn't seen since all those years ago, trace across her side she reeled from the sheer heat that plummeted to her core.

But she was a fuckin' kunoichi, like she'd let a little bit of physical excitement get in her way. Even as she thought it and even as his hand slid around the curve of her neck and pulled her in she realized, yes she was a kunoichi but also a severely aroused kunoichi.

"S-sak," she choked on her own name. She hadn't worried about throwing her real first name about freely; it fit her hair color too well. But this man knew her name, she was sure, had heard it even if to hear she'd killed his partner. She couldn't tell him.

"Sake," she said quickly.

"You're kidding, yeah?" Deidara said, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "Is it a pun? You're intoxicating? It works well, yeah."

And then, in some unbelievably twisted turn of events Sakura let herself be kissed by a man she loathed, had loathed since she'd first set eyes upon him, however handsome he had been, balanced casually on Gaara's dead body. And she liked it; in fact she liked it so much she found her hands tangling into his blonde locks, so like Naruto's, found herself pushing him back into the chair with the shift of her lithe body, found herself gasping openly when the mouth on the hand holding her head in place bit lightly on the back of her neck. How odd that she should like something so… bizarre.

It was almost overwhelming as his other hand gripped her hip, bare between the criss-crossed fabric covering them and teeth nipped the flesh there as well. But she toppled over the edge when his mouth, which resided on neither hand, ground against hers and his tongue thrust passed her own lips.

It was too much, too fast, too wrong, but she didn't care. She hadn't given herself to anyone since Naruto had given his life for her and all of Konoha and this man, with his blue eyes, blonde hair, and playful attitude was simply too gorgeous in his own ways and in ways she longed to touch again, to hold again that she couldn't resist, would _not_ resist. Besides, she'd be the only one to know, especially after she killed him.

Deidara could hardly contain himself, especially when Sake seemed to enjoy his assisting mouths rather than detest them like every other woman he'd been with. In fact those women had requested he not use those mouths despite their definite sexual benefit and then ones that would let him use them tried to charged extra. He'd just never paid it, never wanted to and in fact had almost always left without so much as a blowjob from those greedy bigoted women.

So, he'd fuck this woman and then kill her, he decided. He deserved it for putting up with all the bullshit Pein gave him, for still being in Akatsuki when all he really wanted to do was disappear from their sights, maybe travel to Wave or Water Country and set himself up with a nice seaside place where he could spend his days building masterpieces and soaring over the ocean.

He felt the dancer's hands tugging on his long hair now, greedily nibbling on his bottom lip. He loved fiery women; they were like art- explosive, responsive, and usually loud. A shit-eating grin pulled at his lips even as her mouth devoured it.

She had the lapels of his cloak in her hands now; she was voracious just as he'd thought she'd be but as much as he wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her brains out, he knew once they finished he'd have to eradicate her. And all for Pein's sake. If not for the leader Deidara could picture himself returning to the club for the same reason night after night, only he'd be on the lookout for a certain pink-haired dancer for an entirely different reason than the previous nights.

Sakura noticed his sudden lack of interest, it was irritating but she thought perhaps she understood. He'd have to go back to his murderous ways after they were done, well, he probably normally would, but not tonight; once she'd satisfied this _lust_, for that's all it was, she'd take that step closer to Pein and kill him. Maybe that would lure the Leader of Akatsuki back to this club, if he found out one of his members had been assassinated there.

She jerked backwards, fingers still scrunched in his coat, and stared at the man who looked entirely too debauched from her kisses than he should have.

"Come on," she demanded, sliding from his lap to once again stand in front of him. Something had already changed though, she knew, as she offered a hand to him. She thought, perhaps, this mission was like learning chakra-control all over again. And she'd just forgotten to keep a hold of that control and was toppling head first from her perch.

* * *

This isn't complete, but it was getting too long, in my opinion, to be a one-shot, plus I wanted to throw this out there and see what people thought of it. It's definitely going to be finished soon though cause I really like it. I feel like it's the best writing I've done in a while... speaking of which, once I finish this, if you watch me or any of my other ongoing stories, I'll get back to work on those... I was just... really off my writing kick... I hate that they come and go because I'm not able to update regularly, but if I force myself to write, all that I produce is crap, haha; I'm sure some of you can understand that, and for those that don't all I can say is sorryyyy, haha. As always, enjoy :)


	2. Part II

Deidara followed her closely, hand firmly grasping hers. There was no way he would release her; she might not come back if he did. She led him through a door marked "Employees Only" and up a flight of stairs.

"Shit," he heard Sake mutter ahead of him before all but colliding into her nearly-bare back. Deidara placed his hands on her hips and chin on her shoulder before speaking.

"What's the problem, yeah?" Sakura's body stiffened at the way his voice slid over her senses, his breath over her cheek.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Deidara lifted his gaze from the dancer's pretty little mouth to glare at the bulky, grimy man leaning rather awkwardly against a door frame. Deidara didn't miss the blaring title beside the door- "Manager/Owner" and some insignificant name as far as he was concerned. It meant she was a liar, but then again he'd already known that yet he'd still followed her this far. And a sleazy club owner like this wasn't about to ruin his enjoyment.

"We're doing what we want to do, yeah. You have a problem with that?"

"N-no, of course not, sir," the owner blubbered before slinking back into his office much like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The pink-haired beauty in front of him giggled slightly, hand quickly moving to smother the laugh. As her body shook with that contained amusement, Deidara realized how close she really was. Her backside was pressed flush to his front and he inhaled her scent deeply even as he jerked her hips backwards, directly against his hardening groin.

Sakura had been surprised but not shocked at the owner's actions. The blonde standing behind her was still wearing his Akatsuki cloak after all, but her mirth was quickly replaced with both slight embarrassment and immense desire as he thrust himself against her. She was even further stunned when he spun her to the left and pinned her against the wall, mouth capturing hers in the most primal of ways.

This was different on so many levels for Sakura. Naruto had been tender, loving, if not a bit energetic. And, while he had wanted her, she was certain, it had never felt like this, never been so animalistic and raw and fierce. Naruto had taken her breath with his sweetness, with the pure love he'd held for her, but this was just…

"What are you thinking, yeah?" He growled in her ear as his teeth nibbled at the lobe.

"I'm thinking I must be insane," she managed to gasp out as his hand slid between her thighs, molding fingers to cloth-covered flesh. The shit-eating grin that split his face made her want to cry and laugh at the same time. It was all too familiar and she easily found herself surging forward, mouth crashing against his, teeth biting, tongue stroking. She was like the kindling to a fire and he was a sudden blast of air that struck, making her flare to life, if only in one way. And she didn't care what way, merely that he had, that she was feeling something other than loneliness, other than regret and guilt and all the things everyone told her not to feel.

Sakura purred audibly as the blonde's free hand reached to pull her right leg up to his hip, causing her legs to part farther and thus his fingers to caress her even more thoroughly as well.

"Mmn," she choked out, arms over his shoulders and blunt nails digging into the thick fabric of his Akatsuki cloak, "not- not here, too-"

"Which way," he exhaled, mouth leaving hers and tongue laving over the tendon of her throat. She jerked her head in the direction of the last flight of stairs that led to her own room, that little piece of haven in this place, that she was evermore grateful for as he looped his arms behind her knees, lifted her, and settled her small frame against himself.

She tugged at his cloak collar, trying to bear some amount of skin that she could touch, could taste. Her wish was granted as he took the stairs two at a time even with her clinging to him and promptly kicked her door wide and releasing her legs, which instantaneously locked around his waist, tore the concealing fabric away from his chest.

Never had she thought a mere netted shirt could be so sexy, but somehow he managed it. It looked so damned good she honestly wanted him to leave it on, so she made no indication otherwise, but instead slid her hands, palms flat, over his toned muscular abdomen and thin top and directly into the waistband of his pants.

"You're greedy, hmm?" Deidara smirked, his own fingers fiddling with the straps on her meager top in contemplation before he forced her to take a step back, and he himself moved to lounge on her bed, even daring to casually let his legs sprawl before him, granting her with a view only hindered by fabric.

His eyebrow quirked in a challenge that she could already deduce. "Dance for me, yeah?"

She answered him with an equally mischievous half smile, lips pursed and lashes lowered. Normally Sakura knew she'd be more reserved, more timid but this was unlike her life in Konoha, this was exciting and here and now. He didn't know her real name, didn't remember her from all those years before, and despite what her mind should have been telling her, he was a very attractive, very powerful man. In her room. In her bed. And oh so willing.

He wasn't going to get a very long dance she could guarantee that. She would rather be touching him, fucking him, than dancing. The music from the club could still be heard thrumming through the floorboards to her room, the heady beat actually vibrating through her feet. Sakura's hips swayed of their own accord to that beat, a motion that was second nature from years of dodging fists and kunai, from months of dancing classes she'd taken with Ino, since the blonde hadn't wanted to learn by herself. Her stomach muscles clenched as Deidara's gaze fell to her waist; she knew what he was thinking about, knew he could picture himself grinding against her in that same rhythm.

Twisting her fingers into the strings over her hips, she splayed her palms flat, agonizingly slowly smoothing her hands over her skin, pressing fingertips into flesh, lifting her own breasts in a provocative manner, all the while smoldering eyes watching as the blonde's hand ghosted over his groin, occasionally gripping himself through the fabric of his pants. Unconsciously she took a step forward, seemingly drawn to his actions, drawn by her own want.

All too soon she found herself in front of him, right hand squeezing her breast almost painfully while she drug her nails on her left down her neck and side, hissing at the sensation it gave her as well as his eyes trailing after that hand.

"Fuck it," he growled, quickly leaning forward and mouth latching to the bare skin of her stomach, sucking roughly, knowing it would bruise and liking it all the more because of that. Her breath hitched above him when he dipped his tongue into the hollow of her bellybutton, though he nearly chuckled when she squeaked as his hands jerked her skirts down over the curve of her bottom and let them fall the rest of the distance to the hard wooden floor.

"You aren't scared, yeah?" He asked, frown forming. He didn't want a woman who was afraid of him, as much as he liked the power. He wanted her feverous, eager, equal.

"No," she uttered, fingers on his skin now, slinking over the tendons in his neck. Only this time, she didn't even want to send that jolt of chakra through him, at least not until she got what they both wanted. It wouldn't be a bad way to go, she mused. A good fuck followed by death. At least he'd die happy.

"Good," his muffled voice reached her ears as his hands slid between her closed thighs, pushing outwards. Sakura tried to keep still as his tongue traced her hipbone and his fingers pressed against her center, moving against her most sensitive flesh. But his hands were gone all too soon as they smoothed over her hips and his teeth nipped her stomach.

She just barely contained the groan that threatened to spill from her mouth.

"What's this from, yeah?" The S-class nin asked from his spot on the bed, eyes carefully studying the narrow blade length scar on her lower abdomen.

Her mind floundered for a story, panic making its way through her veins.

"Uh, it's just a reminder."

"What kind of reminder, yeah?"

Why was he being so curious?

"Looks an awful lot like a knife wound," his eyes darted up her body trying to meet her own gaze that flitted away the same instant. "Pretty little girls like you shouldn't be getting hurt by things like that. Whoever put that there was an idiot, yeah," he bit out, lips sealing her scar with a kiss.

But if only he knew. It had been the puppeteer partner of his that had stabbed through her, it had been her own displeasure of that day, of Chiyo's death that had made her want to keep that reminder. She should have done something more, but she didn't.

"Don't think about it, yeah, it only makes things worse," Deidara whispered against her skin, palms now on the backs of her thighs, dragging her onto his lap.

She tumultuously gave into his urging, thoughts relinquishing painful memories and focusing on the here and now. Which meant taking note of the fact that he was still completely clothed why she bore only the small bra-like top. So she did the obvious.

Her hands tore at the thick but somehow weightless cloak that usually enshrouded him, flinging it back to bare the rest of him, his toned arms and shoulders. Sakura dipped her head instantaneously, teeth and tongue partaking in the saltiness of his skin between the netted fabric of his shirt, raking over the curves and indention of muscle, satisfying at least one need but doing nothing to lessen the itch that had settled so wholly in her lower regions. Although his fingers did finally reach up to tear the flimsy top from her breasts, his eyes immediately, wildly feasting on the sight, causing Sakura's face to flush in excitement.

And then she felt him shifting backwards, hands once again clasping her quivering upper thighs, back settling onto the bed.

"Scoot up here, yeah," he murmured, pulling at her body, tongues doing inconceivably amazing things to her skin. She was surprisingly compliant as she leaned over him, hands fisting into the soft blankets beneath them on either side of his inert body which had stiffened as her pert nipples, now exposed to the colder air in the room, brushed over his stomach through each gaping notch in his mesh top. Repositioning herself over his stomach she blushed incomprehensibly.

The man she knew as Deidara of Akatsuki grinned at her, eyes traversing her body in seconds to peer at her face even as his palms pressed her onto his abdomen more fully.

"So wet," he ground out, the predatory gaze on his face making her forget her embarrassment from only moments before.

Instead, she nearly whimpered at the roughness of his shirt against her moist sensitive folds. It certainly didn't help matters when Deidara raised his hips, initiating even more sweet friction.

"Dei-" she choked, hoping her blunder would go unnoticed by the sharp shinobi below her. Though, if he did question her, it's not as if she couldn't pass it off as common knowledge. Being one of the more forthright Akatsuki members assured that at least his name was known. Or so she hoped was the case among civilians.

Luckily for Sakura Haruno, Deidara's mind was distracted by anything but reasoning. Hearing her half gasp his name had only spurred on his eagerness to divest himself of his wretched clothing. With his pelvis lifted and Sake's wetness slicking over the muscles of his stomach, he jerked his lower half bare, sucking in a sharp breath at the sudden onslaught of cool air. It certainly hadn't seemed so cold in here when she'd removed his cloak and placed herself on him as a substitute.

He watched, engrossed as his hands settled at her waist, his hips flat on the bed again, and he lifted her; watched as her eyes fell shut, lashes grazing her cheeks; watched as her head fell back, as she reveled in some unknown pleasure. Perhaps it was the feel of his hands, their mouths busy nibbling on her skin, perhaps it was merely her knowledge of what was coming. Either way, he decidedly liked it.

It was only when his hardened flesh nudged against his slick center that she wondered what she was doing, what she was hoping to achieve through her actions.

Sleeping with the enemy, that's exactly what she was _achieving_, but she honestly couldn't care in the moment that he let her sink down onto his erection, her body hot and aching. She needed this like she'd needed nothing else. She thought perhaps she could forgo eating, sleeping, anything for this feeling, this harsh and almost painful abrasion inside of her as he forced himself through clenching muscles, as he leaned forward and traced his tongue over her distended nipple, taking it in as if some delicious delicacy on his plate, savoring it.

She couldn't care that, were some people to discover what she was doing, _whom_ she was doing, it would sicken them. She certainly couldn't care about that when her pelvis met his and he was so deeply buried inside her. Sakura's mouth had drawn open in a silent gasp as she settled over Deidara, his hands pushing down on her hips.

The secret kunoichi didn't even realize she'd been holding her breath until he bucked into her body even further, hitting that spot within her and making her cry out.

"Sake," Deidara ground out as her warmth clench around him, "ride me, yeah." His demand wasn't harsh, but she found it hard to comply as her legs felt weak, her balance unsteady. Being a shinobi though, she did what she often had to do. Endure. Though what she usually had to endure was definitely not the same, nor near as pleasant.

Using the muscles in her thighs she pushed upwards only to crash back into him as he jerked her back down. She clenched her fists against his abdomen, pushing harshly against his flesh and gnawed on her lower lip.

"If you think I'm going to play this cat and mouse game with you, you're wrong," she managed to hiss before his right hand cupped her bare breast.

"Cat and mouse, yeah?" He smirked, "I-" he started, before thrusting into her heat and pulling her down in the same instant and earning another breathy cry, "just want to make you scream."

"That's going to be hard," she gave him a haughty smile. It wasn't necessary for him to know she could handle whatever most anyone could dish out. But just in case…

Sakura took his hands, hands calloused from fighting, but fingers still slender and agile for his sculpting, and bent over him. Guiding his hands was more difficult than she expected, he was stubborn in keeping them on her hips it seemed, but he wasn't going to rule her from underneath. She bit his chest then, which got a much desired reaction- his hands tangled into her hair.

Instantly she lifted her hips until only the tip of his length remained inside of her; it was a brief moment before she sank back down and groaned against his skin, his own grunt in her ears.

"I've," she started, lifting off him once again. "Never been-" Sakura dropped her pelvis against his harshly, a small cry falling from her lips. "A screamer." She managed to whisper as she continued the agonizing but blissful pace.

His hands were no longer in her long tresses, but squeezing the curve of her rear, aiding her movements over him, pressing her forward with each stroke inside her warmth. And to his disappointment, she still did not scream. He felt more on the verge of screaming than she seemed as her nails scratched against his abdomen and her teeth and tongue worked at the flesh exposed on his chest.

Her soft cries were growing ragged as he continued to press into her, and her own thighs quivered from keeping up the constant pace. He wanted more and he sensed that she did as well as her brow furrowed and she ground against him. Deidara's knees bent and his feet slid over the covers, thighs grazing her backside now as he used his newfound leverage to thrust into the dancer at an entirely new angle, causing sweet friction against her most sensitive bundle of nerves.

Sake's head slipped down to his chest, pink hair and moist breath tickling his flesh in a desperate attempt to hold out against his relentless assault of her senses. His teeth clamping onto her skin in three places was enough to push her over the edge and her inner muscles constricted around him as his own release came closing in on him. His moan was muffled against her sweaty shoulder.

Chakra suppression wasn't difficult with perfect control, but as her orgasm spiked and she finally let go of her firm grip on whatever reality there was in such a situation with such a man, a criminal, a killer, her hold falter and the power she held in her slender body flared to life. Of course, she immediately trampled it down, sucking the surge of strength back into herself, into a tight corner not to be seen. But it was too late.

His pretty cerulean eyes, much too like her Naruto's, were staring with painful clarity at her. He knew who she was now; it had probably hit him in the head like a brick. Just how many women out there had coral colored hair? How many had scars across their stomach from a knife's edge when their supposed occupation was that of a dancer? And just how many of those dancers had chakra randomly overtake their body after an orgasm?

"You…" his lips parted in that whispered word as she readied herself for an attack. An attack that never came, for Deidara simply continued to lay beneath her, eyes slightly wide, hands still in her pink hair. "W-"

Never had Deidara found himself at a loss for words, but at that moment he couldn't choke out a clear thought. This was _that_ girl, no, woman- no, _kunoichi_ from all those years ago. The Jinchuriki's friend- his enemy. She'd killed Sasori-danna, she'd fought them tooth and nail every time they'd tried to take that Kyuubi brat. And he'd fucked her, was still _inside_ her, wanted to stay that way and fuck her again even.

Something was wrong with him. How had he forgotten that hair? The hair still twined around his long fingers and falling over her shoulders to graze his skin.

And the pieces fell in place. Why Pein had insisted this girl be killed; why Pein had abruptly stopped coming here; why he'd sent Deidara to do the dirty work of killing a woman. Because she was going to do the same given the opportunity.

His gaze flicked back to her face, her own eyes wary, alert.

Her hand flew as quick as lightning, aiming to render him unconscious, but his own reflexes saved him as his upper body twisted sideways, the woman on him toppling in the same direction. They were on their feet in an instant, weaponless, naked, enraged.

"You get a kick outta fuckin' those you're gonna kill, yeah?" Deidara spat; he hated being used, tricked.

"Oh, you're one to talk," Sakura scoffed, temper reigning control. "That bastard you call a Leader must have poor taste in recruitments. It's obvious he knew who I was, unlike you who's actually _seen_ me before!"

"That was _years_ ago, _Sake_." His snide voice mocked the name even as he recalled his joke earlier. _Intoxicating, my ass!_

The kunoichi's face twisted into a rather grotesque frown. "The name is _Sakura_, you bastard," she growled as her fist flew towards his face, honestly shocking the hell out of Deidara as she'd been feet away from him a mere second ago. He dodged habitually, but her fist still managed to clip his jaw. His grunt of pain nearly covered the sound of his jaw dislocating.

Stumbling backwards, hand to his face, he turned his glare back on her face. The look he saw there was not to be expected. Her pretty lips were turned down and her eyes held remorse.

"Don't look at me like that," he spat, barely containing his pained moan.

"Damnit," he heard her mutter more than saw it as his eyes were clenching shut from the aching radiating through his face now.

"Sit," was all he heard before her hands were on his bare shoulders, pushing him, guiding him back to the rumpled bedsheets and the smell of sex laced with the sweet smell of her skin and hair.

"I can't believe this," he heard her sigh against the side of his face, cool hands tilting his face to the side.

"Don't think I'm trusting you, woman," Deidara hissed as she brushed fingers against his bruised skin. "If I was a more calloused man you'd be dead already."

"Hai," she replied softly even as he felt the chakra seeping into his skin. "I'm surprised you trust me enough to even let me touch you now."

"Don't flatter yourself," he hissed as her hand not lacing chakra through his jaw snapped it back in place. "Fuck."

"Stop whining, at least you won't have to deal with the swelling."

And again her soft pink hair grazed his skin, so soft yet so fierce as he'd just experienced.

"What am I supposed to do with you now? Why'd you have to fuck everything up?"

Deidara frowned, "You weren't exactly complaining."

"Shit. So, I guess I'm just going to have to kill you and get that precious leader of yours to come back here seeking revenge for his fallen man," Sakura reasoned.

The Akatsuki couldn't help the laugh that escaped him then, "First off, I could kill you in a heartbeat. Don't think just because you got a lucky jab in that I couldn't. Secondly, I could give a shit about my _precious leader_ and I can assure you he feels the same."

"Wha-" she started, "Well why the hell are you in Akatsuki then?"

"It isn't any of your business, girl," he snapped, again wishing he could bite back his own words. His temper always gave away too much.

"Are you telling me…" Sakura rasped, "that you don't want to be in Akatsuki?"

"No. I'm telling you nothing."

She sighed heavily then, "Oh my, this is difficult."

The blonde shinobi rolled his eyes, "Just do me a favor would you? Go ahead and try to kill me so I can feel a little less horrid for killing the girl I just had the best orgasm of my life with." _Kami, shut the hell up already, she didn't need to know that._

He stared at her face, gauging her reaction. Maybe she wasn't paying much attention to what he said? But he saw it, the small quirk at the corner of her lips. She'd heard him alright, and she was more than pleased with herself. And that smirk of hers was making his stomach clench again, making a certain part of him stiffen.

"I don't think I can kill you," Sakura whispered, brow furrowed. "You remind me of someone… your eyes… I don't want to see them lifeless, not like his."

Deidara couldn't explain it, but he disliked the glazed look that had fallen over her eyes, as if she were seeing someone else, a ghost. Suddenly, her green gaze met his, and her hand slid from his cheek, still saturating his jaw with soothing chakra, why he didn't know as his jaw would be more than okay, to his neck, where one slender finger jabbed him and then… nothing.

Sakura looked down at the unconscious S-class nin. How easy it would be to kill him, but she just couldn't. It wasn't her mission anyways, her objective was Pein, and that was only if she could safely complete that objective. She'd have to lie, at least a little. Yes, she saw Pein, but perhaps he was too intrigued with his blue-haired companion, perhaps he had one too many of his comrades with him for just one lone kunoichi to dispose of. Perhaps both.

Her line of vision fell to Deidara again. His eyes were closed, but she still saw them, just like she always saw Naruto's when she shut her own. She knew it wasn't the only reason she couldn't kill him, but no one would know that, not even her, after time, she'd just remember his eyes. For now though, she would remember… his face, his hands, his laugh, but time would wear those memories down and she would continue her life as a shinobi and hopefully, she would never encounter this man again. He made her weak, just as Sasuke had when she was so very young.

She dressed quickly, packing only the necessities, she didn't want the costumes anyways, the fabrics covered in the smell of smoke and the dingy air of the rooms below. But, she wouldn't mind one little token…

Her footsteps were silent as she dashed from tree limb to tree limb heading in the direction of Konoha, in the direction of home. Even though it hadn't been home since Naruto had left her life. But at least she had some semblance of a life there. Sakura found herself wondering if Deidara felt the same way towards Akatsuki and immediately beat that thought away; although, she couldn't help as her hand strayed to her lips every so often reminiscing the feeling of Deidara's soft sleeping mouth on her own. Her own little twisted token.

* * *

In this one shot, really, it started out as just wanting to write a bit of what I'd seen in a piece of fanart, but, after writing maybe, what, two pages, I realized that I wanted something a little bit deeper. We all know that the Naruto world is full of makeshift good and evil, because, come on, getting hired for assassinations, no matter the target, is still not really a good thing. So, it's always about a balance of light and dark, more so of creating those shades of gray. And, I tried a great deal to make both Sakura and Deidara unable to see the other's real story, their real self (utnil the end, of course, hehe). Deidara thinks she couldn't kill a single person, when, in reality, she's a skilled kunoichi in the story, while Sakura thinks he's just a mindless killing machine, someone that joined Akatsuki of his free will and in pursuit of something sinister. Most of all, I suppose, I'm a sucker for making Sakura a depressingly sad character… maybe because she has so many expectations? Maybe because she seems controlled by her emotions rather than those stupid shinobi rules… who really knows?

Thank you as always for being so patient with my come and go again writing. I hope it was worth the wait :) 3


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